


KARKAT: Do Something Stupid

by thetalkingflower



Category: Homestuck
Genre: A LOT of kinks, Bulges and Nooks, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Omorashi, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Tentabulges, am i tagging right, that one, y'know the kink where it's like 'this is their shirt and it smells like them'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5705671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetalkingflower/pseuds/thetalkingflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is incredibly gross<br/>au where trolls are sometimes cared for by humans or s/t also jack is a human for some reason. xeno headcanon: trolls don’t pee through their bulges</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a super gross fic that i wrote... two years ago? wanted to post it here so i'd have more fics up  
> also i'm editing this as i go along

_“Why the hell is the bathroom locked?”_

“Water’s broke. They’re getting a guy to work on it, brat. Go clean your room like I told you to an hour ago.”

Great. Just your kind of luck. The ice storm is not only putting the state in crisis mode, your apartment building’s water doesn’t work when you really, _really_ need it to.

“When is the guy coming? And why the hell did you lock the door?!”

“He’ll come when he comes, and I did it so nobody fucks it up any further. Now clean your goddamn room, Karkat!”

“I’m working on it!” You slam your door.

_Well, fuck._ You’re pretty sure your human guardian has no clue whether someone’s coming today or next week, so you continue cleaning your room as you try to figure out what you should do about the growing problem in your lower abdomen. Everything goes fine until ten minutes later, when all you can keep your mind on is trying not to wet your pants. You groan at the increasing pressure, desperate to find some relief. The cold air of the apartment doesn’t help either; every shiver just reminds you of how badly you need to go

“Can I pee? Please?” You shout to your caregiver. A jolt of desperation shoots through you and your hand flies instinctively to your crotch.

You swear you can hear that smarmy bastard smirk as he says, “I don’t know, _can_ you?”

You storm out of your room (well, you do as much storming as you can with a full bladder) and stand in front of him, arms crossed. He sits back on the couch, knees apart and arms hanging over the back of the couch, like he's mocking your stiff position. He looks at you with a condescending look on his face. "Can’t you hold it like a big boy, Karkat?”

You swear you’re not attracted to him.

Not even a little bit.

“That’s what I’ve been doing for the past twenty minutes, _Jack_.” You can't help but enjoy the way that his expression hardens; he hates it when you call him by his first name, and you admit to yourself that he does looks hot when he's angry. “You either unlock the bathroom or I piss on you.”

It’s a bluff, and you hope he doesn’t call you on it, but he does. “Oh really? I’d like to see you try.”

**KARKAT: do something really stupid.**

“W-what the hell?!?” You plop down on top of him, straddling his lap, which was a dumb decision anyway since it’s now harder to apply pressure where you sorely need it. Your stomach also does a little acrobatic fucking pirouette because maybe you are a little attracted to the guy, and you have been for a while. You know it’s kind of fucked up, but it’s not like you can make it go away by not thinking about it. You’ve already tried that.

If you didn’t have to pee so bad, you’d actually be kind of turned on.

Despite your bladder’s protests and your fucked up hormones, your serious face does not falter. “You’ve got like ten seconds to tell me where the key is before I fuck up your couch and your pants. Do not fucking try me.”

His tone is frantic. “Shit shit fuck- I lost it, okay?”

“Are you shitting me?!” Your bladder contracts without warning, and you grab yourself to keep from leaking.

“I was hoping to call up a guy but the roads are iced! I know, dumb idea to lock the door. If you’d get up I can keep looking for it.”

You sigh and move about a half inch before you feel a wet patch starting to grow in your underwear. Panic seizes you. “Fuck.”

“What?”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m stuck.”

He sighs deeply and attempts to pick you up, but you feel the wet patch grow. “STOP! Stop it I’m gonna pee!”

He thinks for a moment, and sighs. “Look, there’s no use hurting yourself. Just… let go. I swear I won’t tell nobody.”

“But I… your pants, and the couch…” You start to protest.

“I can clean those; don’t worry about it. Just go.” He places a hand on your stomach, rubbing gently. You whimper as the pressure on your bladder causes you to leak again, and you know he _had_ to feel that.

“Okay then…”

And you relax. It’s not nearly as bad as you thought; it’s really fucking warm, and almost arousing, but hell fucking no you are _not_ going down that road while sitting on your (mildly attractive) caretaker’s lap. There’s a faint hissing sound that you try to ignore, and the relief elicits a soft, breathy moan from you which you hope to every deity in the books he didn’t hear. For the most part, you’re just surprised you had _that much_ piss in you. You underestimated the mess you would have made, but he still rubs your stomach gently, and the contact makes you shudder. He's really... gentle with you, which feels so unreal but you don't mind it one bit.

Eventually, the hissing dies down and you’re left with an empty feeling and the faint smell of piss. You suddenly notice a tightness in your pants that wasn’t there before, and that paired with the cold air hitting your legs makes you feel utterly exposed. Though you soon realize you’re not the only one who enjoyed this a little too much.

“I, uh… fuck I’m so sorry… Just- go change into some clean pants, kid.” Jack averts his eyes and you reluctantly tear yourself away from him and run back into your room, head spinning and face flushed. Your first thought is to take a cold shower, but you realize what got you into this mess in the first place.

"Fuck," you find yourself saying aloud, and you swear you could hear the same thing from Jack in the other room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i think this is the first full blown smut i've ever written  
> yeah i can tell it is since the end is so fluffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one ended up being way longer don't ask me why ask the me from 2014

You have been a hot mess. All you can think about lately is the moment Jack shared with you last week that we shall not discuss at the moment. Or ever – just thinking about the incident makes your head hurt. How were you supposed to know he was into that?

Right now he was out, getting things to restock the pantry, leaving you in the small apartment to your own devices.

You wander around the empty apartment, bored out of your mind when you find yourself in his room. You don’t come in here very often, and you don’t quite know why you wandered in here in the first place. You make an effort to leave, but something keeps you in there; call it fate, destiny… Or a dirty, inside-out t-shirt that you nearly busted your ass over. Curiosity teases at your mind, telling you to pick it up to flip it right-side out again.

You’ve seen him wear it on occasion. It’s light grey with the words “Casual Friday” across the chest in blocky black letters; a shirt fit for the wisest of smartasses. You try to resist the temptation to put it on, but you’re already exchanging your “I’m Feeling Crabby” shirt for his. Though as soon as you pull it on a strong smoky, bittersweet smell hits you for a fraction of a second. It was so brief that surely you imagined it; you lift the neckline over your nose, just to be sure and… Oh, wow. The smell of cigarette smoke and whiskey and _Jack_ sends your hormones into overdrive and the sheer strength of it makes your head spin.

You look at yourself in the dresser mirror; it’s much too big for you, hanging off your shoulder. You think how you must look like some bottom bitch fantasy boy, and immediately regret ever letting that thought cross your mind. It was merely a passing thought, but the smell of his shirt combined with that mental image of him, fucking you senseless, makes you hyper aware of the heat between your legs, the damp patch in your boxers catching your attention as well. An ugly, bright red shades your face in your reflection.

You check the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. 4:45. He hasn’t been gone very long, so he won’t be home for another hour…

You climb up on his bed wearing his shirt and lean back against the pillows, palming your already unsheathed bulge through your jeans. You don’t even try not thinking about Jack, letting your mind wander. You imagine how it would have gone if you had stayed on his lap – all hands and hips rocking together. You grind into your palm harder, moaning desperately, needing so much more than the friction you’re getting. You finally unzip your pants, shimmying out of them with your boxers until they’re bunched around your ankles.

You shudder at the cool air hitting your exposed bits. You imagine what he would do to you if he were here. His touch, his voice… You moan as you dip two of your fingers into your nook, working your bulge slowly. You’re so desperate for daddy to fuck you hard – you moan louder because holy shit you did not expect that thought to be as hot as it was. You say it out loud without thinking, begging him to go faster. You flutter your fingers back and forth, imagining his thicker ones stretching you. Your breath comes out in pants as you pick up the pace;  a small part of you wonders if you should’ve locked the door, but you ignore it, too lost in the pleasure to notice the sound of the front door opening.

You open your eyes, realizing that your hot dad is standing in the doorway, with his mouth hanging open. He has caught you in his room, wearing his shirt, with two fingers crammed up your nook and a firm grip on your bone bulge.

You are so screwed.

**Karkat: ABSCOND THE FUCK OUT**

You can’t abscond because your parental figure is literally standing in your only escape route. You pull your fingers out of your nook with a wet noise that he HAD to have heard, dear God. Covering yourself with a pillow, you attempt to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled choking noise. Tears start to form as you hope to whatever higher power that you DON’T cry in front of your hot dad. Jack still hasn’t said a word.

"S’that my shirt?” he finally asks awkwardly.

“I’m so fucking sorry-”

“I asked a question,” he says with more conviction. “Are you wearing daddy’s shirt?” You notice a bulge in his pants and it clicks. Oh my god. He heard you. He heard you calling him daddy and you did that to him. That’s certainly an ego-booster if anything.

“Yes…”

“Why?”

You swallow, wondering how your face hasn’t melted off from all the heat rising to it. “I- it smelled like you…” You can’t believe this is actually happening, but he curses silently as he makes his way toward the bed.

“Fuck…” Jack takes a shuddering breath. You never see him like this, without his composure, which is terrifying and exciting all at once. “Do… Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

You could finish right there, hearing him say that as he stares into your eyes like that. “God, yes. Please.” He kisses you hard as you melt into him, heart racing.

He climbs onto the bed, on top of you, for a better angle. When his tongue grazes your bottom lip, you allow him entrance as he lightly rubs one of your horns, spiraling his finger from tip to base. You feel like you’re full of helium, like you’re either going to burst or float away if he lets go of you. You involuntarily purr around his tongue and you feel him smile.

He breaks the kiss to get your pants off all the way, and tosses them unceremoniously on the floor. Unbuttoning his shirt, he kisses your neck, and his stubble scratches you in the most delightful way. He fucking growls as you whine pathetically. You can’t even register how fucked up this is because if you do he’ll have to stop doing this and hell no that is not something that’s happening any time soon. You cover your mouth so you don’t scream when he roughly shoves two fingers inside you.

“Don’t do that,” Jack purrs, “I wanna hear you moan for me…”

“T-the neighbors… Ah!” He scissors his fingers swiftly, back and forth, and reduces you to a hot, whiny mess. Your neglected bulge finds friction wrapping around his wrist.

“Don’t care.“ Jack’s voice is as rough as his fingers, fucking your most sensitive parts. You cry out as he puts another finger in to stretch you further. He leans close and you think he’s going in to kiss your neck again but he quietly says, “So tell me: What were you thinking about when you were jerking off on my bed?”

Shit. “I- I thought about you…”

“What was I doing, love? What was I doing to you?” God, Jack is too smooth for you.

“You w- you were fucking me…” He manages to spread his fingers, stretching you, and you gasp. “D-daddy!”

Jack pulls his fingers out, tinted an unsightly shade of pink. He unwraps your bulge from around his wrist, and you whine in protest, feeling too empty. Before you can even process his finger going to his lips, he sticks his pointer finger in his mouth. He’s tasting you and you could just die happy right now, knowing you witnessed that. He raises a second finger to your lips.

“Suck.”

You take it in, swirling your tongue around his finger. It tastes vaguely salty with a pungent after-taste you cannot accurately describe. You moan around his finger, and he pops it out of your mouth. A string of saliva connects it to your lips – so utterly lewd, made worse by the low moan you let out.

“Good boy…” He then unbuttons his pants, shifting them down just enough for you to see the outline of his dick through his underwear.

“There’s lube and a condom in the second drawer of the nightstand.” His breathing is irregular and heavy, and you remember that you are doing that to him, and that thought alone gives you another rush of confidence.

When you return with the lube, you find Jack stroking himself through his boxers, giving you that damn nonchalant smirk of his; the same one he gave you a week before that caused your heartbeat to stutter. “Well,” he says, “get over here, then.” He starts pulling his underwear off his straining erection. “You know how to put it on?”

“Uh…” You inspect the little packet, hoping for instructions. You suppose you should open it, but what if it tears the condom? You're so scared of fucking this up and Jack picks up on your puzzled expression and chuckles. “Here… let daddy show you.” He tears it open expertly and, making sure it’s on the right way, rolls it some of the way down. Your hands shake, but you manage to roll it the rest of the way down, wondering how something so big could possibly fit in you. He squirts some lube into your hand, guiding it up and down his length. You feel his gaze on you, like it’s burning holes in your head. He notices your bulge writhing in the open, aching for attention, and takes it in his own hand, stroking it just right. You flush again, with that horrible color, and you try to look away from him until he takes his other hand and lifts your face to the light.

"Beautiful…” They’re empty words, you tell yourself, but right now you could believe them.

“You want more?”

“Yes, God…” You don’t even hesitate. “Please, I want you inside me…”

He growls. “Good boy. Such a good boy for daddy…”

He then rolls off of you, pulling you on top of him, allowing you to take control. The head of his cock teases your nook and you shudder. You slowly lower yourself onto him, levering yourself with your hands on his shoulders, until you feel his hips against yours. He’s all the way inside, so deep, gazing up at you with dark, lustful eyes. There’s less of a burning, painful stretch in your nook, and more of a vaguely uncomfortable yet wonderful feeling of being so full of him. You start to move, and he grabs your hips, helping you up. You move on your own, starting a rhythm that he matches with upward thrusts. You feel obscenely warm, vision almost fuzzy from pleasure, and you don’t even notice how loud you are until Jack makes a comment.

“Thought you were worried about what the neighbors would think… Look at you; listen to yourself… You needed this so badly, didn’t you?”

“God…” You’re short of breath. “Yes, I needed it… Oh, God!” He hits this pleasure pressure point inside you, and you nearly black out from the sensation.

“Fuck, you love my cock inside you, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh…” You can’t even think straight. You feel like he’s slowing down, but maybe that’s just your body adjusting to the pace. All you know is that it’s not enough and you want- no, you need more. “It f-feels so good, daddy… Please, God… I need more-” You’re cut off by his tightened grip on your hips and the inability to move.

“You little slut,” Jack growls, and he pounds into you. He just holds your hips there as he fucks you hard and deep, leaving you completely at his mercy. You feel filthy, like his personal fucktoy. “ _Mine_ ,” he says, hips meeting yours again and again with an obscene, wet, slapping sound, coupled with your loud, unabashed moans. You are reduced to nothing but whines and moans as he fucks you, whispering filthy things into your ear. You feel yourself coming closer to release, pressure building in your core like a dam about to burst. You attempt to relieve your bulge, but he swats your hand away.

“Don’t… I want to be the one to make you cum.”

“I- I’m gonna,” you try to warn him, unable to catch your breath long enough to form a coherent thought.

“ _Cum for daddy, then… Let me see you cum for me like a good boy_ ,” he pants, nearing his own peak as well. His hot, heavy breath in your ear sends you over the edge, intense pleasure wracking your body as you shout his name. He chokes out your name and his thrusts stutter, still jerking up into you until he’s spent.

You both take a moment to catch your breath before Jack gently helps you up to pull out. You wince at the sudden emptiness, still over sensitive from orgasm. Your bulge has already retracted, you notice, as he pulls off the condom, knotting it and throwing it in the trash can near the bed. The sheets are no longer clean, but you two lie together still, the reality of what just happened sinking in.

“Shit, so,” you start, “that just happened.”

Jack laughs awkwardly. “No fuckin shit, kid. You alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“God, no, it was fantastic, but…”

“But what?” You pause, unsure of how to phrase your thoughts. What’s going to happen tomorrow? Will we pretend this never happened, like last week?

“I just… Don’t know if we can ever pretend that none of this happened.” Or meant anything.

“We don’t have to, you know.”

…That thought never occurred to you.

He looks at you with kind, gentle eyes you don’t see on him often enough. “If you don’t want to pretend that things will be normal after this… I don’t expect you to. It’s all up to you, Karkat.”

You feel so fucking conflicted; this was amazing, but it’s so fucked up on so many levels that you just want to crawl in a hole and die from the shame. You’re so overwhelmed by the reality of these feelings you could cry.

“I don’t know…” _Dammit don’t actually cry_ …

“S’okay, you don’t have to have everything figured out right now,” he says, holding you closer; you don’t think you get enough of this reassurance from him.

“Right now, I don’t want to think. I just want to sit here with you. Maybe cuddle. Probably take a nap.” You yawn.

He laughs softly. “Yeah, that sounds good right now…”

You drift off to sleep as he holds you close, listening to his heartbeat.


End file.
